Of High Descent

“Right into the arms of those who are searching for you. What a baby you are, Harry! Do you want to be told again that every boat which starts for the Continent will be watched?”

Harry made a despairing gesture, and his haggard countenance told plainly of the agony he suffered.

“My dear Miss Louie,” continued Pradelle, “do pray help me to bring him to reason. You must see that you are both safe here, and that it is the wisest thing to wait patiently till the worst of the pursuit is over.”

“We do not know that there is any pursuit, Mr Pradelle,” said Louise coldly.

“Come, I like that!” cried Pradelle, in an ill-used tone. “I thought I told you that they were searching for you both. If you like to believe that you can leave your home as you did without your people making any search, why you have a right to.”

Harry began pacing the room, while Pradelle went on in a low, pleading way —

“Ever since Harry came to me, I thought I had done all that a friend could, but if I can do more, Miss Louie, you’ve only get to tell me what, and it shall be done.”

“You’ve done your best, Prad,” said Harry.

“Yes, but you don’t think it. I could go and do all kinds of rash things; but I’ve been working to throw them off the scent, and I don’t think, so far, I’ve done amiss. You’re not taken yet.”

Harry drew a long breath and glanced at door and window, as if for a way of escape.

“Come, that’s better,” cried Pradelle. “Take a more cheerful view of things. You want change, Harry. You’ve been shut up too much. Have a cigar,” he continued, drawing out his case. “No? I beg your pardon, Miss Louie. Oughtn’t to ask him to smoke here.”

Harry shook his head impatiently.

“Yes; have one, old fellow. They’re good. Take two or three; and, look here: go and have a walk up and down for an hour. It’s getting dusk now.”

Louise gave her brother an excited look, which did not escape Pradelle. “Let’s all go,” he said. “We might go along the back streets as far as the park. Do you both good.”

“No, no,” said Harry sharply. “I shall not go out.”

“Go together, then,” said Pradelle, half mockingly. “I don’t want to intrude; but for goodness’ sake, man, try and have a little change; it would make life move different, and you’d be more ready to take a friend’s advice.”

“What advice?”

“To settle down here. London’s the best place in the world for hiding yourself.”

“Don’t talk to me any more, old fellow,” said Harry. “I’m out of temper. I can’t help it.”

“All right, lad. I’ll go now; and you get him out, Miss Louie, do. It’s the best thing for him.”

Harry made an impatient gesture, and threw himself in a chair.

“You shall do as you like, and I’ll raise all the money for you that I can,” said Pradelle, rising to go; “but take things more coolly. Good-bye, old boy.”

“Good-bye,” said Harry, shaking hands limply.

“Good-bye,” said Pradelle, as Harry turned away to rest his aching head upon his hand. “Miss Louie!”

He gave his head a jerk towards the door, and Louise rose and followed him.

“Come outside,” he whispered. “I want to speak to you.”

“Mr Pradelle can say what he has to say here.”

“But it’s about him.”

“Well, Mr Pradelle?”

“Well, Miss Louie, I only wanted to say that some day you’ll find out who is your true friend. I want to help you both. I do, on my honour.”

“Your honour!” thought Louise.

“Have a little more confidence in a man if you can. I do want to help you. Good-bye.”

He held out his hand, and she felt constrained to give him hers, which he held, and, after glancing hastily at Harry, raised to his lips; but the kiss he imprinted was on the yielding air, for the hand was snatched indignantly away.

“You’ll know me better by and by,” said Pradelle; and giving her a peculiar look, he left the room.

Louise stood for a few minutes gazing after him, her brow knit and her eyes thoughtful. Then, going back to where her brother sat with his head resting upon his hand, she laid hers upon his shoulder.

“Harry, dear,” she said firmly, “that man is fighting against us.”

“Rubbish,” he cried impatiently. “You never liked Pradelle.”

“Better for you if you had hated him. Harry, he is striving to keep us here.”

“Nonsense! Don’t talk to me now.”

“I must, Harry. You must act, and decisively.”

“What do you mean?”

“Either you must raise money at once, and go right away from here – ”

He looked up sharply.

“No, I do not mean that,” she said sadly. “I will not leave you till you are fit to leave; but you must either act as I advise at once, or I shall do what I think best.”

“What do you mean?”

“Write to our father to come and help us, for you are too weak and broken down to protect me.”

“Louie!” he cried excitedly; “I am not so weak as you think. I will act; I will take your advice.”

“And get rid of this Mr Pradelle?”

“Anything you like, Louie, only don’t let them know at home – yet, and don’t leave me. If you did I should break down at once.”

“Then will you be guided by me?”

“Yes.”

“And take these jewels yourself and raise money?”

“Yes; but it is too late now.”

Louise glanced at the window, and in her ignorance of such matters half felt the truth of his words.

“Then to-morrow you will do as I wish?”

“Yes, to-morrow,” he said wearily.

“Put not off until to-morrow – ” said Louise softly to herself; and she stood watching her brother as he sat with bended head, weak, broken, and despairing, in the gathering gloom.

Volume Three – Chapter Fifteen.

An Old Friend – or Enemy?

“Where shall we stay? I’ll show you,” said Uncle Luke, after giving instructions to the cabman. “My old hotel in Surrey Street. Comfortable, motherly woman. No nonsense.”

“And what do you propose doing?”

“Let’s hear first what you propose,” shouted the old man, so as to make his voice heard above the rattle of the cab-windows – four-wheelers Jehu’s enemies, which lose him many a fare.

“I have nothing to propose,” said Leslie sadly; “only to find her.”

“And I’ve given you twenty-four hours to think it out, including last night at Plymouth.”

“My head is in a whirl, sir; I am in no condition to think. Pray suggest something.”

“Hah! The old folks are useful, then, after all. Well, then, you would like to hear my plans?”

Leslie nodded.

“First, then, there is a good tea, with some meat; and while we are having that I shall send off a messenger.”

“To find them?”

“No. Wait.”

Leslie had found out that the best way to deal with Uncle Luke was to treat him like a conger-eel, such as they caught among the rocks about Hakemouth. Once hooked, if the fisher dragged at the line, the snaky monster pulled and fought till the line cut into the holder’s hands, and sometimes was broken or the hook torn out; whereas, if instead of pulling, the creature had its head given, it began to swim up rapidly, and placed itself within reach of the gaff. So, in spite of his fretful irritation of mind, he allowed the old man to have his own way.

The result was, that before they sat down to their meal at the quiet hotel, Uncle Luke wrote a letter, which was dispatched by special messenger, after which he ate heartily; while Leslie played with a cup of tea and a piece of dry toast.

“Not the way to do work,” said Uncle Luke grimly. “Eat, man; eat. Coal and coke to make the human engine get up steam.”

Leslie made an effort to obey, but everything seemed distasteful, and he took refuge behind a paper till the waiter entered with a card.

“Hah! yes: show him in,” said Uncle Luke. “Here he is, Leslie,” he continued.

“Here who is?”

“Parkins.”

“Parkins?”

“Sergeant Parkins. You remember?”

Leslie had forgotten the name, but directly after the whole scene of the search for Harry came back as the quiet, decisive-looking detective officer entered the room, nodded shortly to both, and after taking the seat indicated, looked inquiringly at Uncle Luke.

“At your service, sir,” he said. “You’ve brought me some news about that affair down yonder?”

“No,” said Uncle Luke. “I have come to see if you can help us in another way;” and he told him the object of his visit.

“Hah!” ejaculated their visitor. “Yes, that’s different, sir;” and taking out a notebook, he began to ask question after question on points which seemed to him likely to be useful, till he had gained all the information he thought necessary, when he closed the book with a snap, and buttoned it up in his breast.

“Rather curious fact, sir,” he said, looking at both in turn; “but I’ve been thinking about Hakemouth a good deal this last day or two.”

“Why?” asked Uncle Luke shortly.

“I’ve been away all over the Continent for some time – forgery case, and that Hakemouth business has gone no farther. As soon as I got back, and was free, I wanted something to do, so I said to myself that I’d take it on again, and I have.”

“Oh, never mind that now,” said Leslie angrily. “Can you help us here?”

“I don’t know, sir. I shall try; but I might mention to you that we think we have obtained a clue to the gentleman who escaped.”

“Yes, yes,” said Leslie impatiently; “but can you help us here?”

“Give me time, sir, and I’ll do my best,” said the sergeant. “Not an easy task, sir, you know. A needle is hard to find in a bottle of hay, and all the clue you give me is that a lady left your neighbourhood with a French gentleman. Fortunately I did see the lady, and should know her again. Good morning.”

“But what are we to do?” said Leslie eagerly.

“You, sir?” said the sergeant quietly, and with a suspicion of contempt in his tone. “Oh, you’d better wait.”

“Wait!” cried Leslie, in a voice full of suppressed rage.

“And practise patience,” muttered the man. “One moment, sir,” he said aloud. “You saw this French gentleman?”

“I saw him, but not his face. Mr Vine here told you; the light was overturned.”

“But you saw his figure, the man’s shape?”

“Yes, of course.”

“And you heard his voice?”

“Yes.”

“Broken French?”

“Yes.”

“Now, sir, just think a moment. I have a slight idea. French name – spoke – ”

“We mentioned no name.”

“One minute, sir. Spoke French – brother’s fellow-clerk and intimate – gentleman who went off – been staying at the house – long time in the lady’s society. What do you say now to its being this Mr Pradelle?”

Uncle Luke gave the table a thump which made the tea-things rattle, and Leslie started from his seat, gazing wildly at the officer, who smiled rather triumphantly.

“Great heavens!” faltered Leslie, as if a new light had flashed into his darkened mind.

“Of course, sir, this is only a suggestion,” said the sergeant. “It is all new to me, but seems likely.”

“No,” said Uncle Luke emphatically, “no. She would never have gone off with him.”

“Very good, gentlemen. I’ll see what I can do at once.”

“One moment,” said Leslie, as he slipped some notes into the man’s hand. “You will spare neither time nor money.”

“I will not, sir.”

“Tell me one thing. What shall you do first?”

“Just the opposite to what you’ve done, gentlemen,” said the officer.

“What do you mean?”

“Go down to Hakemouth by to-night’s mail, and work back to town.”

“I feel certain,” said Leslie, “that he brought her to London to take tickets for France.”

“I don’t, sir, yet. But even if I did, it’s a long bridge from here to Cornwall, and I might find them resting in one of the recesses. You leave it to me, sir. Good-day. Humph!” he added as he went out; “plain as a pikestaff. Women are womanly, and I have known instances of a woman sticking to a man for no reason whatever, except that he was a scamp, and sometimes the greater the scamp the tighter the tie. Pradelle’s my man, and I think I can put my thumb upon him before long.”

“No, Leslie, no. Louie wouldn’t look at him. That’s not the clue,” said Uncle Luke.

Volume Three – Chapter Sixteen.

The Needle in a Bottle of Hay

A week of anxiety, with the breaks in it of interviews with Sergeant Parkins, who had very little to communicate; but still that little was cogent.

He had been down to Hakemouth, and by careful inquiry had tracked the missing pair to Plymouth, where he had missed them. But, after the fashion of a huntsman, he made long casts round and picked up the clue at Exeter, where a porter remembered them from what sounded like an altercation in a second-class compartment, where a dark young lady was in tears, and the “gent” who was with her said something to her sharply in a foreign tongue. Pressed as to what it was like, he said it sounded as if the gent said “Taisey.”

There the sergeant had lost the clue; but he had learned enough to satisfy himself that the fugitives had been making for London, unless they had branched off at Bristol, which was hardly likely.

“Come up to London,” said Leslie. “Well, that is what we surmised before we applied to you.”

“Exactly, sir; but I have nearly made your surmise a certainty.”

“Yes, nearly,” said Leslie bitterly.

“We must have time, sir. A hunter does not secure his game by rushing at it. He stalks it.”

“Yes,” said Uncle Luke in assent, “and of course you must be certain. This is not a criminal matter.”

“No, sir, of course not,” said the sergeant dryly, and with a meaning in his tone which the others did not detect.

“If you are successful in finding their whereabouts, mind that your task ends there. You will give us due notice, and we will see to the rest.”

“Certainly, sir; and I have men on the look out. The bottle of hay is being pretty well tossed over, and some day I hope to see the shine of the needle among the puzzling dry strands. Good morning.”

“Is that man a humbug, sir, or in earnest?”

“Earnest,” replied Uncle Luke. “He proved that before.”

If the occupants of the hotel room, which seemed to Leslie like a prison, could have read Sergeant Parkins’ mind as he went away, they would have thought him in deadly earnest.

“Not a criminal case, gentlemen, eh?” he said to himself. “If it is as I think, it is very criminal indeed, and Mr Pradelle will find it so before he is much older. I haven’t forgotten the night on Hakemouth Pier, and that poor boy’s death, and I shan’t feel very happy till I’ve squared accounts with him, for if he was not the starter of all that trouble I am no judge of men.”

Volume Three – Chapter Seventeen.

Pradelle is Pricked

Seeing more and more that if an alteration was to be made in their present position, the change must come from her urging, Louise attacked her brother soon after breakfast the next morning. She was fully convinced that Pradelle was determined to keep them in London for reasons of his own – reasons the bare thought of which brought an indignant flush into her cheek; and it was evident that he was gaining greater influence over his old companion, who was just now in the stage when it would be easy for one of strong mind to gain the mastery. This being so, Louise determined that hers should be the strong will, not Pradelle’s. To this end she took three or four of the most likely of her jewels, making a point of carefully wrapping them up and dwelling upon the task till she caught her brother’s attention.

“What are you doing there?” he said.

“Getting ready some things upon which to raise money.”

He uttered an impatient ejaculation.

“Leave them till Pradelle comes.”

“No, Harry; either you or I must part with these. Who is it to be?”

“Let Pradelle take them.”

“No,” she said firmly. “It is time that we acted for ourselves. Will you go, or shall I?”

“But you heard what he said yesterday?”

“Yes, and I do not believe it. Come, Harry, for your own sake, for mine.”

“Yes, yes; but wait.”

“You forced me into this compromising position to help you escape from England.”

“I could not help it.”

“I am not blaming you; I only say act, or let me.”

He started from his chair, and stood there swayed by the various passions which pervaded his spirit.

“Harry.”

“I cannot do it.”

“Then let me go.”

“No, no, no!” he cried. “I am not so lost to all manly feeling as that. Here, give them to me, and let us get away.”

“Yes,” she said eagerly, “at once. You will go, Harry, and let us cross to-night.”

He nodded his head, and without another word swept the jewels into his pocket, and made towards the door. As he laid his hand upon the lock he turned sharply and came back.

“I’m like a curse to you, Louie,” he said, kissing her; “but I’m going to try, and you shall guide me now.”

She clung to him for a few moments, and then loosened her grasp.

“I shall be ready when you come back,” she said. “We can pay these people, and it will be like breathing afresh to get away.”

“Yes,” he said. “But Pradelle?”

“Is our enemy, Harry. Your evil genius.”

“No, no; he has been very kind.”

“For his own ends. There, go.”

He went off without a word; and after making the few trifling preparations necessary, Louise put on her hat and cloak, and waited impatiently for her brother’s return. An hour passed, which seemed like two, and then the blood mounted to her pale cheek, and she crossed towards the door ready to admit her brother, for there was a step upon the stair. She glanced round to see if she had forgotten anything, but there was nothing to do, save to pay the landlady, and then they would be free. She threw open the door as the step paused on the landing, and then she ran back with her lips apart, and a look of repugnance and dread in her eyes.

“Mr Pradelle!”

“Yes, Miss Louie, me it is, and you don’t look best pleased to see me.”

As she fell back he entered and closed the door.

“My brother is out, Mr Pradelle.”

He nodded, and stood smiling at her.

“You can leave any message you wish for him.”

“And go? Exactly. Hah! I should like to make you think differently of me, Miss Louie. You know I always loved – ”

“Mr Pradelle, I am alone here, and this visit is an intrusion.”

“Intrusion? Ah, how hard you do keep on me; but I’m patient as a man can be. What a welcome to one who has come to serve you! I am only your brother’s messenger, Miss Louie. He has been and done that business.”

“You know?”

“Of course I know. Harry is not so hard upon me as you are. I have seen him, and he sent me on here with a cab. He wants you to join him.”

“To join him?”

“Yes, at the station. He says it is not safe to come back here, and you are to join him at the waiting-room.”

“He sent that message by you?”

“Yes. It’s all nonsense, of course, for I think he has not so much cause to be alarmed. There is a risk, but he magnifies it. You are ready, so let’s go on at once.”

“Why did not my brother return? There is the landlady to pay.”

“He has commissioned me to do that. I am going to see you both off, and if you’ll only say a kind word to me, Miss Louie, I don’t know but what I’ll come with you.”

“Did my brother send that message to me, Mr Pradelle?” said Louise, looking at him fixedly.

“Yes, and the cab’s waiting at the door.”

“It is not true,” said Louise firmly.

“What?”

“I say, sir, it is not true. After what has passed between us this morning, my brother would not send such a message by you.”

“Well, if ever man had cause to be hurt I have,” cried Pradelle. “Why, you’ll tell me next that he didn’t go out to pawn some of your jewels.”

Louise hesitated.

“There, you see, I am right. He has taken quite a scare, and daren’t come back. Perhaps you won’t believe that. There, come along; we’re wasting time.”

“It is not true.”

“How can you be so foolish! I tell you I was to bring you along, and you must come now. Hush! don’t talk, but come.”

He caught her hand and drew it through his arm so suddenly that, hesitating between faith and doubt, she made no resistance; and, ready to blame herself now for her want of trust, she was accompanying him towards the door when it was opened quickly, and their way was blocked by Leslie and Uncle Luke.

Pradelle uttered an angry ejaculation, and Louise shrank back speechless, her eyes dilated, her lips apart, and a bewildering sense of confusion robbing her of the power of speech, as she realised to the full her position in the sight of those who had sought her out.

“Then he was right, Leslie,” said Uncle Luke slowly, as he looked from his niece to Pradelle, and back.

“Uncle!” she cried in agony, “what are you thinking?”

“That you are my niece – a woman,” said the old man coldly; “and that this is Mr Pradelle.”

“Uncle, dear uncle, let me explain,” cried Louise wildly, as she shivered at the look of contempt cast upon her by Leslie.

“The situation needs no explanation,” said Uncle Luke coldly.

“Not a bit,” said Pradelle with a half laugh. “Well, gentlemen, what do you want? This lady is under my protection. Please to let us pass.”

“Yes,” said Uncle Luke in the same coldly sarcastic tone of voice, “you can pass, but, in spite of everything, the lady stays with me.”

“No, sir, she goes with me,” said Pradelle in a blustering tone. “Come on,” he whispered, “for Harry’s sake.”

“No,” said Uncle Luke. “I think we will spare her the pain of seeing you arrested. Mr Pradelle, the police are on the stairs.”

Volume Three – Chapter Eighteen.

The Dog Bites

Pradelle started back as if he had been stung.

“Police?” he said. “What do you mean?”

“What a man does mean, you scoundrel, when he talks about them – to give you into custody.”

“It is not a criminal offence to elope with a lady,” said Pradelle, with a malicious look at Leslie, who stood before the door with his hands clenched.

“Uncle!” cried Louise, whose pale face now flamed up as she glanced at Leslie, and saw that he avoided her eyes.

“You wait,” he said. “I’ll finish with this fellow first, and end by taking you home.”

“But, uncle, let me explain.”

“You’ll hold your tongue!” cried Pradelle sharply. “Think what you are going to do.”

“Yes, she can hold her tongue,” cried Uncle Luke, “while I settle our little business, sir. Let me see. Ah! I was always sure of that.”

Pradelle had thrust himself forward offensively, and in a threatening manner so near that the old man had only to dart out one hand to seize him by the throat; and quick as lightning had drawn an old gold ring from the scarf the young man wore.

“What are you doing?” roared Pradelle, clenching his fist.

“Taking possession of my own. Look here, Leslie, my old signet-ring that scoundrel took from a nail over my chimney-piece.”

“It’s a lie, it’s – ”

“My crest, and enough by itself to justify the police being called up.”

“A trick, a trumped-up charge,” cried Pradelle.

“You must prove that at the same time you clear yourself of robbing Van Heldre.”

“I – I rob Van Heldre! I swear I never had a shilling of his money.”

“You were not coming away when I knocked you down with old Crampton’s ruler, eh?”

Pradelle shrank from the upraised stick, and with an involuntary movement clapped his hand to his head.

“See that, Leslie!” cried the old man with a sneering laugh. “Yes, that was the place. I hit as hard as I could.”

“A trick, a trap! Bah! I’m not scared by your threats. You stand aside, and let us pass!” cried Pradelle in a loud, bullying way, as he tried to draw Louise toward the door; but she freed herself from his grasp.

“No, no!” she cried wildly, as with ears and eyes on the strain she glanced at window and door, and caught her uncle’s arm.

“Hah! glad you have so much good sense left. Nice scoundrel this to choose, my girl!”

“Uncle!” she whispered, “you shall let me explain.”

“I don’t want to hear any explanation,” cried the old man angrily. “I know quite enough. Will you come home with me?”

“Yes!” she cried eagerly, and Leslie drew a breath full of relief. “No!”

The negative came like a cry of agony.

“I cannot, uncle, I cannot.”

“I’ll see about that,” cried the old man. “Now, Leslie, ask Sergeant Parkins to step up here.”

“Let him if he dares!” cried Pradelle fiercely.

“Oh, he dares,” said Uncle Luke, smiling. “Call him up, for it is a criminal case, after all.”